Three Scars
by DragonWinged
Summary: Dustfinger comes across Basta on his way to Roxane's........................
1. Chapter 1

Seventeen year old Dustfinger strolled through the woods on his way to Roxanne's house. In his hand was a rose, red as fire. He'd spent nearly two hours trying to find one to match Roxanne's beauty. Of course, no rose could do that, but he was satisfied with the one he found. Dustfinger continued walking the direction of her house until he heard something from in the woods. It was a rustle. Assuming that it was a rabbit, Dustfinger continued on his way.

Then suddenly, a boy his age appeared before him. His hair was sleek and black, and his shirt was white as moonlight. In his hand was a blade, switched open, and held threateningly. Dustfinger recognized the boy; Basta. "Who's the rose for? Roxanne?" asked Basta, a smirk upon his face.

"That would be none of your business," replied Dustfinger coolly, trying hard to hide his fear of the knife.

Dustfinger expected some kind of cruel comeback from Basta, but nothing came. Instead, Basta kicked Dustfinger between the legs with all his might. The fire-eater keeled over and instantly became nauseous from the pain. "What was that for?" he gasped, and then nearly became sick on the ground. Before he knew it, two other guys appeared from out of the trees and violently pinned him against the ground. Dustfinger struggled, but was already weaker from the kick.

Basta rammed his bony knees aggressively into Dustfinger's chest. Dustfinger cried out in pain, and found himself struggling for breath. He was terrified. What was Basta going to do? Panic made its way throughout his thin body, and his hands began to tremble. Basta put the knife in front of Dustfinger's face, and held it there for a moment, taunting him. The terrified boy began to ask Basta what he was going to do, but all that came out was a scream. Basta sliced down his jawbone with the blade, watching contently as blood began to rush out of the gash. Basta went over the cut a second time, very slowly, making it deeper. The fire eater shrieked and tried to squirm free. One of the men grabbed a handfull of Dustfingers ginger hair, and held his head against the ground. The boy whimpered and closed his teary eyes. Basta laughed and traced along his victim's freckles, scaring the poor fire dancer, that was cowering before him.

Dustfinger yelled for help, but Basta ran the knife across a different place on his face. The air stung the cuts a horrifying amount, and Dustfinger couldn't hold back the tears forming in his eyes. A tear streamed down his cheek, leaving behind a trail of salty moisture. Basta smiled suddenly. He pressed the blade along the path of the tear, just barely piercing the skin. Dustfinger tried to escape, but the men holding him down were just too strong. Blood began to flow into his eyes, and as if that weren't enough, Basta jabbed the blade into Dustfinger's face once more. He let out a bloodcurdling scream as he felt the cold metal inside his mouth. The knife had gone straight through his cheek, sharp against his tongue. He held very still, trying not to hurt his face anymore than it already was. Dustfinger was still tightly clutching that rose, promising himself that he would live see Roxanne's gorgeous face again.

But then, Basta yanked it out of his grasp, and shredded it with his weapon. Dustfinger, felt the men release him, and tightly curled himself into a ball. He began to sob, but screamed every minute or so. He could tell the three boys were still standing over him , but he didn't care. He had to cry, he just had to. He could taste the blood in his mouth, and his whole body began to tremble with fear and pain. "It h-h-hurts!" he screamed to no one in particular. The three boys laughed, and Dustfinger felt a hard blow in the chest. He yelped, and began to quiver harder, gasping for air. If things weren't bad enough, Basta gagged him, preventing him from screaming and sobbing. It made everything far worse, for now he had to keep all the pain and fear inside. Plus, the material rubbed roughly against his wounds, making the tears spill out all the more fast.

Basta stepped over Dustfinger's limp body and stood before him. The fireater was really struggling because of the gag. He was whimpering and clawing at the fabric. Eventually he managed to get it off, but Basta simply kicked him in the face. The boy screamed and sheilded his wounds with his trembling hands. He curled his knees to his chest again, and sobbed violently into his hands.

The pain, the fear. It was overwhelming for Dustfinger. It was all too much for him. He screamed again, but was nailed in the chest with Bastas boot.

"There you go," snarled Basta. "For help with the ladies in the future." He grinned, and strolled off, leaving Dustfinger alone, whimpering in the darkening forest.


	2. Afraid

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters, they belong to Cornelia Funke.

Dustfinger wiped the blood his tunic sleeve for about the twentieth time. He was going mad with terror. The poor thing's entire body was trembling from the fear. He wrapped his smoke scented cloak tightly around his thin shaking body. Dustfinger curled up like a helpless, wounded kitten that had been kicked one too many times. The pain was unbearable, andthe fireeater continued sobbing into the hard cold soil.

He knew he had to do something about the gashes. He sure wasn't a doctor, but he was still concious enough to realize that he was loosing blood _fast_. Dustfinger reached for his backpack, made of worn green fabric. With trembling fingers, he pulled out a faded cloth and pressed it to his deepest of the wounds. The friction only caused him more pain, and he yelped as soon as the material came in contact with the slice. But he continued holding it there, as blood swirled with the hot tears pouring from his terrified eyes.

The boy knew that it would soon become dark, making him an easy meal for any passing wolf. If the nightmares didn't find him first, that was. Summoning up all his remaining strength, Dustfinger pulled some fallen leaves into a small pile. Trying hard to stop crying, he whispered a few fire words and tried to convince the flames to dance. No sooner did the fire spring to a blaze, Dustfinger keeled over gasping.

The pain was too much for him. Dustfinger let out a bloodcurling scream, but barely heard it. He didn't even think pain like this was possible. His fingers involintarily curled around his backpack and his eyes began to lose focus. Everything was fading in and out, back and forth. The forest was spinning, around and around in circles. He felt like he was going through a tunnel, traveling to fast for sense and then suddenly everything went black. The fire dancer lied on the ground, unconscious, with blood and tears streaming down his freckled cheeks and beads of sweat on his forehead.

A/N: sorry i know its short...chapter 3 coming soon


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